Something Beautiful
by Snape No Koibito
Summary: Racetrack tells a jumbled up fairy tell to the younger newsies. You have to read it; it's kinda hard to explain it. Funny stuff though, promise!


Title: Something Beautiful 1/? (1? 2? 3? etc? Who knows?!)

Author: Snape no Koibito

Rating: PG for muffins and slash. But no slashy muffins. Sorry guys.

Pairing: Racetrack/Crutchy, Jack/Spot, Specs/Dutchy

Feedback/Archive: YES! I crave attention desperately!

Disclaimer: Hah, I wish they were. I don't even own the involved fairy tales (Repunzel, Rumpelstiltzkin(sp?), Goldilocks and the Three Bears, the twisted Star Wars quote and a reference to "Into the Woods" staring the Big Bad Wolf) I don't own the accents, which is why they aren't in here. That I'm too lazy to write them out. Use your imagination if you want them that badly.

Summary: Oh gosh... Racetrack tells a jumbled up fairy tell to the younger newsies. You have to read it; it's kinda hard to explain it. Funny stuff though, promise! "Into the Woods" reference for my wonderful girlfriend whom I love very much. Enjoy your flowers. You know who you are. 

Something Beautiful

                "Racetrack?" came Tumbler's tiny voice. "Will you tell me a bedtime story?"

                Racetrack looked up from his poker game and straight into a pair of green eyes. Pleading green eyes. He looked around at the guys sitting at the makeshift card table; some who smirked, some who looked encouraging, and Specs and Dutchy who were taking advantage of the break in the game to engage in... consensual... activities. Covering Tumbler's eyes (for the boy was too young to see such things) he turned to look at Crutchy who smiled and nodded at him.  After discreetly kicking the hell out of Spec's shin under the table to get the stop for a couple minutes, he uncovered the kid's eyes. /_Oh God... not the puppy face./ He felt all his defenses and reservations about story telling crumble and he signed a resigned sigh. "Fine," he muttered. "Let's go." _

                "YEAH!!" Tumbler grabbed him, and, with all the energy of  four-year-old boy, tugged him to his bunk and crawled in, then looked up at Racetrack, a teddy bear held in his arms. Racetrack paused to melt for a moment, then remember he had a job to do. 

                "What kind of story do you want?" he asked.

                Tumbler thought about it for a moment, ignoring Snipeshooter as he came over to sit next to Racetrack, followed by Boots and a few others of the youngest boys. "I want a fairy tale!" 

                Racetrack had to think for a long moment. Then he took a deep breath and began. "Once upon there was a young man named Crutchy who lived in a tall tower..."

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                Crutchy sighed as he looked out the window. He'd spent all day brushing his hair, singing and trying to sew a new dress but that was pointless for three reasons. Reason one: He was locked in a tower. Where was he gonna go? Who was gonna come to see him, aside from the Kloppman witch guy? Reason two: Being locked in a tower, one finds it hard to keep up with the latest clothing styles because you just don't see anybody wearing them. Reason three: He was a guy, he didn't wear dresses. This sucked. Just because his mother had had a craving for some sauerkraut one day didn't mean he should punished for his father's theft. The world was full of injustices and he strongly believed he was one of them. 

                Giving up on the dress, he decided to make a new suit instead.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                "Racetrack?" came a voice from his left. 

                Racetrack attempted to turn and look, but he was too weighed down by children to move. "Over here, Cowboy."

                "What in the world are you doing?" he sat down on the bunk across from them and thankfully for Racetrack, half of the kids jumped over to him. 

                "Telling a bedtime story," he admitted, rolling his eyes. "You can stay and listen if you like. I can now move my feet again."

                Jack shrugged. "Sure. Get on with it."

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                Meanwhile, in a kingdom not too far away, there lived a young man. His father was very, very poor, but they figured they had to do something. So together, they plotted and started a rumor that his brother could spin straw into muffins. 

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                "Muffins?!" Tumbler asked. "What happened to gold.

                "Yeah, muffins. Gold's too shiny. I'd get distracted. Do you want me to tell the story or not?"

                "Sorry. Muffins are yummy! I don't mind!"

                "Good. Anyway..."

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                So eventually, the rumor's reached the ears of King Spot, who decided that since there was a shortage of muffins in the kingdom right now, that he needed to capture this boy's brother and force him to make muffins for him. King Spot sent out his best and most trustworthy men for this top secret project, and they brought him in, unwashed dirty blonde hair sticking up every which way, and his eyes molten pools of anger. King Spot grinned. "Hello there, Jacky-boy. I been hearing things from Harlem, Queens, all over. They been saying that you can spin straw into muffins. So you'd better do it, and do it by morning or I'll have your family killed, you got that? Succeed and you can have the pleasure and wealth and ego-stroking that will come from marrying me!"

                All Jack could do was nod. He'd never see his father or his brother again. On the other hand, a totally hot guy was offering him pleasure, wealth, and ego-stroking... it was worth a shot. They took him to a large room, filled with straw from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. In the middle of it all sat a spinning wheel. He began to pout. What if he couldn't do it, and he missed out on the king's offer?! 

                Suddenly, a little man appeared before him. "I can help you!" he chirped cheerfully. "But in return, you have to give me something, or I'll steal it from you!"

                Jack looked down at him from his place on the floor. "But I don't HAVE anything to give you."

                "Okay then..." the little guy thought for a minute. "You have to give me your first adopted child that you have with the king!" 

                "Fine. Just do it, okay?" 

                And so the guy did. And by morning there was 50 dozen freshly made muffins in the room, steaming hot and ready to be eaten. "Just remember your promise, Jack!" he squeaked before disappearing again, just as the doors swung opened and the king entered. 

                "Wow! Muffins! This is too good to be true!" he turned to Jack. "Will you be my bride? You are so amazing!"

                Jack, his ego having been stroked and awoken, nodded eagerly. "Okay!"

                And so they were married. Racetrack was soon knighted and went off on his own little adventure. He couldn't have his own kingdom until he rescued a prince or princess and married him or her, and he was determined to get that kingdom. He'd had a deprived childhood and needed to make up for it.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                Jack glared daggers at him. "I hate you."

                Tumbler giggled. "That was cool! I like muffins!" He snuggled closer to Racetrack, who looked at Jack, who was being cuddled by various short things. Including Spot. 

                "Hey, how'd you sneak in here?"

                Jack grinned. "He's below sight level, so you see..." he shut up when Spot beat him upside the head. 

                "Can it, pea brain."

                Racetrack laughed and continued.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                One day while he was traveling over a bunch of hills and stuff, he heard singing coming from somewhere off in the distance. He looked around. What the hell? All he could see was a tall tower a couple miles off. _The singing must be coming from there, he thought. So he nudged his horse and they went off toward the tower. _

                When they reached the base, he looked up at the window. "Great. Just great. Now what?" He'd never rescued anybody before. "HEY! IS ANYBODY UP THERE?!" A head looked out of the window. 

                "What do you want?" it said.

                "Do you need to be rescued?"

                The question stumped the boy in the tower for a minute. "I... I guess so," he finally conceded. "There's a door around the back, if you want to come up here and bring me down. I'll pack up my stuff." The head disappeared from view again, so with a shrug, Racetrack went around the back and opened the door cautiously. Nothing happened. So he went up the stairs and into the room where he'd seen the boy earlier, armor clanking the whole way.

                "Um... hello."

                The curly-haired boy eyed him. "Aren't you a little short for a knight?"

                "What? Oh!" He took off his helmet. "My name is Racetrack Higgins. I'm here to rescue you. I'm from King Spot's kingdom--"

                "King Spot?! That's my uncle!" 

                "Well c'mon then!" The boy grabbed his stuff and took his rescuer's hand and they tore down the stairs... to find the door had locked behind Racetrack. "Dangit!" he sighed, but taped a note to the wall anyway, just to let Kloppman know he'd been rescued and wouldn't be back in time for supper. "You--"

                But Racetrack already had his sword through the door and was busy cutting a whole big enough for them to get out through. "What's your name, by the way?" he asked when they were finally outside. 

                "My name is Crutchy," he clung tighter to Racetrack as they climbed onto the horse and wandered off into the sunset, back towards King Spot's palace.

                Meanwhile, Jack and Spot had adopted a young boy, named Tumbler--

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                "Hey! That's me!"

                "Yes, it is. Now stop interrupting or I won't tell you anymore about Muffin boy over there."

                "K."

                Racetrack glared down at him. "K, what?"

                "I'll behave."

                "Ahem..."

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                Tumbler was a beautiful young baby, and Jack and Spot loved him very much. Jack was anxious though. When was that little man going to come back? Jack hadn't told Spot about their deal, in hopes of sparing his husband from a rather nasty panic attack, but he knew that the strange guy would be back soon enough. 

                He didn't know just how right he was.

                The next night, the little man appeared before him, a bag of stolen goodies at his side, which seemed to be moving as though there was something alive in it. Was it just Jack's imagination, or was it calling his name? He didn't have much time to ponder this though, because the little man spoke. "I've come for your child, Jack. Hand him over, and I'll put him in this sack with this other guy."

                _Other guy? What the--? Jack didn't really have time to think about it though, because the little guy was discreetly trying to pull Tumbler away from him. "Please! I just can't give you Tumbler! My husband would kill me!" Vaguely, he thought he heard a voice mumble something like "I'm gonna kill you anyway if you don't get me out of this damn bag!" _

                "Alright," the little guy continued. "I'll let you out of this deal, and give you back all of your stuff, if you can tell me what my name is in no more than three guesses." 

                "Is it... Dutchy?" he asked, trying to discern what the bag was telling him. Sounded like "Snitch!"

                "No."

                "Is it... Skittery?" The bag was still talking. "Snitch, you bastard!!!!!!!!!" was what it seemed to be saying.

                "Is it... Snitch?" Did the bag just breathe a sigh of relief?

                "Arrrgh! But how did you know?"

                "The bag told me."

                Snitch's eyes widened. "The bag?" He kicked it, delighting in the yelp it made. "Fine. You win, but I'm never cooking muffins for you again!" He disappeared, and Jack opened the bag, to find his husband glaring at him murderously. 

                Spot's eyes narrowed. "Explain to me. Now."

                And he did.

                Miles away, Racetrack and Crutchy had decided to camp for the night, and as they lay cuddled together in Racetrack's sleep roll, Racetrack found himself completely absorbed in a study of the sleeping person's features.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              

                Racetrack paused for a moment to breath, and noticed that almost all of the newsies were in there with him. Including Crutchy, who was sitting at the floor by his feet, leaning against Jack's legs, and looking at him with a cute expression on his face. He looked puzzled and shocked and just a bit hopeful, and Racetrack thought it was as good a way as any to tell him that he cared rather deeply and personally for him. He grinned and kept on, because the younger ones were all nagging him to continue.

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                Crutchy was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes on and he was certainly the most fun to be around. They shared jokes all day, and Racetrack was starting to believe in love at first sight. It certainly felt like love. He wanted nothing more than to kiss those lips-- two eyes popped open to look at him. Caught. "Go back to sleep, angel," he murmured, and quickly, to save his own ass, did the same.

                The next morning they continued through the woods, coming upon a little cottage. Something sure smelled wonderful. He grinned. Food!!! "Hey, Crutchy, you hungry, angel?" Crutchy looked up.

                "Food?"

                "Alright... let's go to that cottage over there. I'm sure they'll give us something."

                So they went over and knocked on the door. Nobody answered, so they decided to go in. And sitting there, on the table were three bowls of porridge. Racetrack hesitated for a brief instant before his stomach nagged him. He went over to the first bowl and tasted it. "This one's too hot!"

                Crutchy tasted the next one. "This one's too cold!"

                Together, they sampled the third one. "This one's just right!" Racetrack exclaimed. Together, they ate about half of the incredibly large bowl before they were too full. 

                "I'm tired," Crutchy yawned. So they went upstairs to the beds. Together, they plopped down on the first one. Or tried to. It was hard as a rock! So they got onto the incredibly soft second bed. Incredibly soft was an understatement, because it took sometime to pry Crutchy out of the mattress. Finally, they went over to the third bed and laid down and fell asleep curled against each other. 

                They awoke sometime later to find three very angry bears staring down at them. Gripping each other rather tightly, they ran past the bears, out the door, and onto the horse, and galloped off through the woods. After awhile though, they slowed down just a bit, and stopped very suddenly when they nearly ran over a wolf. A big bad wolf. 

                "Hello, young men. What's your rush? You're missing all the flowers. The sun won't set for hours."

                "My brother said straight ahead; not to delay or be mislead, so if you don't mind, we're just going to continue." And so they did. They continued to the gates of the palace where they dismounted and Racetrack gave the reigns over to the stable keeper, then took Crutchy's hand and led him inside to the throne room, where Jack and Spot were still busy arguing over the "Snitch" incident. 

                "Yeah, well, if you hadn't been so THREATENING, then I wouldn't have needed to ask for his help and promise our first child!

                "If you hadn't been so damn hot, then I wouldn't have had to BE so threatening!"

                "Your logic makes no-- you think I'm hot?"

                "... ...I didn't say that." 

                "Why you...."

                Racetrack cleared his throat to keep Crutchy from seeing one of the more interesting fights he could tell they were about to break into. "Excuse me. Jack... Spot... I rescued somebody!"

                Spot's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He'd managed it! He sighed. "Fine. Here are the keys to your palace. When you get out the door, take a right on the first street, then a left on 42nd..." After Racetrack had the directions, he grabbed his beloved and took him to his castle, where he carried him over the threshold. Spot and Jack fought, but quickly made ou- up. And they all lived happily ever after. The end."

*              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *              *

                He finished it with a sigh of relief, and was happy to note that all the little ones were asleep. so carefully, the older boys put the younger ones in their correct beds, and Racetrack stretched and went outside to smoke... and to talk to Crutchy. He found him leaning against the wall, eyes shut, as though he was praying for something. "Hey."

                "Hi," Crutchy muttered back. "Your story... was interesting." He turned his head to look the other way.

                "I'm sorry if I offended you. It's just... I had to rescue and fall in love somebody..." /*Why* is this so hard to say?/  "...and I figured that I should just choose the person that I already have fallen for." /There. I said it. Please don't turn me away, I finally got up the balls to tell you./ 

                "Oh. I see. I had a feeling."

                Racetrack reached out, put a hand on his shoulder. "Crutchy... Cameron, look at me." Crutchy turned at the strange use of his actual name. "If you don't want me, I'll go away, and we'll just say I was kidding around, but if you do... then say something. Please."

                "Vincenzo... I..." he cast his eyes to the ground, then looked back up, suddenly very happy. "I do want this! I'm just a bit afraid." 

                Racetrack grinned a happy grin. "That's the best gamble I've ever--" he cut off in mid sentence and looked down. His hand had seemingly attached itself to another hand without his knowing it. He looked up at Crutchy, silently asking if it was okay. A grin and a kiss on the cheek answered him. 

                "Let's go inside. It's too damn cold out here."

                Racetrack smiled and allowed himself to be led inside. This was sure to be something beautiful.

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A/N: So what do you think? Did you even actually read down this far? If you did, you should leave me a review and stroke my ego a bit. It likes that a lot. Especially since I've got this ugly watch tan on my wrist now. I have it, it looks funny. Somebody make me feel better. And tell me if you want more of this, cause I'm not entirely sure myself. I think the mix of fairy tales confused me for a bit. Ahem. 

Also, for all intents and purposes, I use Vincenzo Anthony Higgins and Racetrack's real name, and Cameron as Crutchy's. Don't like it? Cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it.


End file.
